


Five Times Keller Watches

by CatHeights



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-13
Updated: 2008-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christopher Keller character study, through the lens of his relationship with Beecher. Written for the The Five For Six Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Keller Watches

His father's rage never lasted long, once Chris learned not to cry. Crying just fed the anger, tossed fuel on the fire. Before the first blow hit, he'd disconnect and become an observer, watching from afar – seeing a man, face contorted into something monstrous, beat a small boy. It was like watching a movie with no popcorn. He felt nothing because there was no way he was that pathetic creature cowering on the floor while blow after blow fell on him.

Later when his father was gone, and he had to reconnect to the scene and go back into his body, then it hurt. Then Chris felt everything. Eventually, though, disconnecting got easier. Flick a switch, and you're gone. Sometimes it happened without his even trying. One moment he'd be part of the scene, immersed in the world, and then whammo! The movie began to play.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

The show unfolded as the mark realized he'd been played for a fool. Keller laughed at the rage on Beecher's face. That rage couldn't touch him. It was only a channel of distant amusement. Words spilled from his mouth, the script automatic as he fulfilled his role in the plan. His foot pressed against Beecher's face, Keller twisted the arm in his grip. Bone snapped, the sound like an explosion, and for a second Chris felt split, watching from two places, one part engaged by the violence and the other watching with unease. He flicked off the unease. His wasn't a two channel world.

Later, though, when he was alone in their pod, the deed done, that unease returned. "Lights out" was called, and Keller spun in the sudden darkness, feeling like someone was right behind him, watching. Of course no one was there. He had the pod to himself. Beecher, body shattered, would be in the infirmary for a long time.

The faint knowledge of something rattled around his brain. Keller felt a bit like he was watching a show but couldn't follow the plot. While disconnecting was easy, reconnecting could be a bit more difficult. Sometimes, like now, it took time for the world to slide back into place. Emotion could start as a mere pinprick but grow to a battering wave.

Chris rubbed his face as the whisper of remembered words pounded in his head.

_I love you._

_I love you, Toby._

"I love you, Toby," he repeated aloud. The words sounded hollow, truth echoing amidst destruction.

_Aw, fuck._

*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You like that. Don't you?" Beecher mouthed the words against his skin.

"Fuck yeah," Chris whispered, biting down on a moan. He watched in fascination as a kaleidoscope of expressions displayed on Beecher's face – surprise, joy and want. A shitload of want. Oh yes, he knew Beecher would like this. "Harder. Come on Toby, give me more."

Beecher did as asked with a thrust that made Chris arch, his cock rubbing between them. Another angled thrust had him reaching out with one hand to grasp the side of the bunk as he struggled for control. He wanted this to last, but goddamn it felt good. Toby's instincts were perfect. Oh, fuck, this was everything he wanted.

"Oh god…I…you…yes, want this. Chris."

Look at that, sex actually managed to short-circuit Beecher's brain. Good. Except, he could tell by Toby's expression he was a breath away from forgetting where they were and getting far too vocal. No fucking way was he risking bringing a hack down on them right now.

Chris pressed upward, capturing Beecher's mouth and smothering sounds he desperately wanted to hear. He imagined he could feel each sound Beecher would have made, each shout of his name spiraling through his body and touching every part of him. Toby's thrusts grew a bit wild, but Chris welcomed the roughness, encouraged it. His hand grazed Beecher's hip as he reached for his cock, and then he began to stroke himself just as wild as Beecher was thrusting into him.

Toby pulled his mouth away, and said, "Chris." The softly uttered words ached with want.

Chris clenched his butt muscles, and a shudder moved through him as he felt Toby come. He gave his cock a few hard strokes, and then he too was coming, one hand squeezing the edge of the bunk so tightly it hurt.

After a few seconds, Toby pulled out and Chris lowered his legs, feeling the muscles twinge. He reached out for Toby, unwilling to let go just yet. This incredible feeling coursed through his body. While he felt relaxed and at peace, he also felt completely connected, as if all his senses were buzzing and working as one. Everything he touched, saw and heard seemed more vivid, more here. Beecher's body was draped over his, and as he ran a hand down a sweat-slick back, Chris marveled at how alive he felt. This was no moment of cheap rush, but the real thing.

"Toby," Chris said. No name had ever meant so much to him before. Then he kissed Toby because there were no words to convey how he felt. Toby would have to understand.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

He couldn't stop it – this boiling rage. He felt it when he breathed, when he ate, even, goddamnit, when he jerked off. There was no escape, no disconnecting. He'd been out of control before, knew how it felt to go down that road, and yet this was different. The difference shouldn't be surprising. When it came to Beecher everything he'd learned in life, all the survival tricks he'd picked up, spiraled down the damn drain.

Beecher fucked guy after guy, and Chris could barely restrain himself from storming into the laundry room, ripping Beecher away and making someone hurt real bad. Some things took a lot of blood before they could be washed away. He shouldn't care. He's not supposed to care, but he does. Everything spiraling inside was too much. It needed a way to come out, and that way would present itself, if he waited and watched for the right moment.

Chris took a deep breath and climbed into his bunk. He slid a hand into his underwear and began to stroke his cock. Eyes closed, he tried to imagine Beecher's hands on his thighs and mouth on his cock, but all he could picture was Beecher on his knees swallowing someone else's fucking cock. He stroked his cock rough and fast, too rough, because it hurt. The pain didn't make him soften his touch. Instead, he yanked on his balls, and continued the harsh strokes, letting the pain blank out the image of Beecher.

Beneath his eyelids the world turned red. When he came it felt like he was drowning in a blood red sea of anger, hurt and hate. His head spun with the sound of it all crashing together.

Afterward, one hand clenched on his sticky stomach near his spent cock, Chris couldn't stop shaking because the want was still there. He may have come, but it hadn't put a dent in how fucking much he wanted Beecher.

He punched a fist against the side of the bunk and then got up and walked over to the door. Forehead resting against the glass, Keller glared in the direction of Beecher's pod. He knew this would be another night he'd spend watching and wanting what he once again couldn't have.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chris didn't understand why Beecher wasn't listening. He'd taken care of Schillinger and the Aryans. Surely that proved his love. What else did he have to do to make Beecher understand that it was all for love, both the good and the bad? Everything had happened because Toby was the one thing he couldn't live without.

_You are death. Let me live._

It wasn't the words that dragged into him like a shank; it was the regret he saw in Beecher's eyes. Beecher wasn't being stubborn. This talk wasn't all bullshit. Clarity brutally revealed the truth – he was the one thing that stood in the way of him and Beecher being together. But he couldn't do what Beecher wanted, he couldn't let go.

The conflict roiled inside him, rage and desperation, love stripped of restraint, until...click. The movie inside his head began to play, and suddenly he knew how this all ended. For Beecher to live, he would have to die, but he wouldn't be forgotten, not when he'd loved so much. As long as Toby lived, he would remember what it had been like to be loved by Chris Keller.

Chris fought for the last kiss, as he'd always fought for Toby. "I love you," he said. And then with his final words, he made it clear that he hadn't wanted the story to end this way, but this was the ending Beecher had chosen. He had no choice. Chris shoved away, letting the momentum carry him backward over the railing.

Free fall.

Not all shows have happy endings. Some just end – violently.


End file.
